


Under the sky

by JesseMo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Essos, F/F, F/M, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, direwolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 20:50:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19709188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JesseMo/pseuds/JesseMo
Summary: When King Robert hears that Viserys Targaryen schemes to marry his only sister to a Dothraki Horselord for an army to invade Westeros, the king refuses to let it happen.With a problem to solve in each palm, King Robert thinks of an unlikely solution in the form of Sansa Stark.But what King Robert is unaware of is that the Dothraki can take more than one woman for a wife.





	Under the sky

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Of Wives and Queens](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6940765) by [JesseMo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JesseMo/pseuds/JesseMo). 



> Characters have been aged up. Sansa is seventeen, Daenerys is nineteen.  
> The timeline has been altered  
> This occurs in season 1 but Daenerys has not married Drogo….yet.  
> For book readers, this picks up at chapter 37, where instead of Ned arguing that Robert shouldn’t kill a pregnant woman, they are arguing about sending Sansa to marry Khal Drogo before Daenerys can.  
> Catelyn has Tyrion in the Eyrie as a prisoner, there is only rumor that she plans to have a trial for him but it hasn’t happened yet because Lysa is terrified of the ramifications of angering the Lannisters who are already marching towards them to get Tryion back. Lysa, though reluctant, has agreed to imprison him in the Eyrie for her sister.

_~~**EDDARD ** ~~ _

_~~** ** ~~ _

  
“Robert, I beg of you!” Ned pleaded, all formality gone in the situation he was faced with.

  
He couldn’t believe what Robert was telling him. He must have had too much to drink. He looked at the small council members for some assistance but each and every one of the cowards stayed silent.

  
“Your wife has kidnapped Tyrion Lannister and though no one much likes that short shit, Tywin is furious. He’s marching his men to the Eyrie to get him back. Catelyn has started a blood war and something has to be done.” the king recounted what Pycelle had just told him moments ago.

  
Catelyn believed that Tyrion had sent that assassin after Bran. He wasn’t sure yet where she and Lord Tyrion had crossed paths, nor how his wife could have been so rash. But he had to remind himself that she was a mother and had been faced with, who she thought was, the attempted murderer of one of her youngest sons.

  
“She thinks she can hold a trial for him.” Ned shot a quick glare at the viper who had spoken. Little Finger, of course. Did he not love Cat? If he did, then how could he not see how this would affect her, how unfair this was to her. Sansa was her pride and joy. She had such hopes for Sansa, this would kill her.

  
“My king, please, listen to what you are saying. It is you who proposed marriage between our children. Commanded that I consent to a betrothal between Sansa and Joffrey. You would have made my daughter queen of the seven kingdoms without a thought just to join our houses and now you ask me to give Sansa away to a Dothraki horse lord just to keep Daenerys Targaryen from marrying him instead!?” He needed to understand why Robert thought this was the best option, why he would even think of this at all. He needed to remind his friend that he was going back on all that he had hoped to achieve between the joining of their two families.  
  
"Tell me why?!" Ned demanded with the ferocity of the sigil of his house.

  
The king's hand came down with a thundering clap over the letter Tywin Lannister has sent. He was surprised that Robert had yet to rip it to shreds.

  
“Tywin is demanding retribution for the actions of your wife and this will have to be it. It is for the good of the realm, Ned!” Robert's face grew red with his fury and he poured himself more wine.

"This will destroy my family, Robert," Ned told him. Imagining his families reactions, Cats, Robb's. Both had been unhappy with the betrothal with Joffrey, hating the distance and disliking the boy. This would devastate Cat and Robb wouldn't understand. Sansa deserved better than this.

  
“That is not the intention. As the king said, it is for the Realm." Vary reminded him, voice oily as his head in the light.

"We who presume to rule have to do vile things, we have to make sacrifices even if they are not truly our own,” Varys said softly, wringing his lotioned hands, his fingers gleaming with his many rings.

  
“And that sacrifice is my daughter?” he raised his brows at Varys. For a man with no balls, he sure spoke sometimes as if he had ones that belonged on an ox.

  
“Is that not what making any betrothal for her is, Lord Stark?” Varys asked. “You sacrificing her?"  
  
Ned had never thought of it that way. Yes, giving Sansa up was a great loss, but he never planned to do so for advantage. They were at peace. He hoped to find her a match of her dreams with a man she loved and who respected and adored her in return. He never wanted to force her hand, he wanted her happy for the rest of her days. He wanted to give her what Lyanna never got to have.

"It so happens, Lady Sansa, was fortunate to be offered a betrothal with someone whom she had affections for. And a prince. She will be sad and though I’m sure her heart will be broken for a while, it will mend with time.”

  
“Marriage has always been a reliable way to barter peace and gain allies." Little Finger spoke again and he wished he could cut the mans tongue out. His skin crawled every time he spoke. “This is a hard sacrifice for many fathers before you have had to make and many more still after you.”

  
“We appease Tywin with sending Sansa away, the loss of her daughter is a punishment to match Catelyn’s crime of taking a son from the Lannisters.” Robert sighed before raising his glass with a grin. “And I get to make sure that little shit Viserys Targaryen doesn’t get the army he wants”

  
“What does that matter?” Ned asked with exasperation. “I already told you the Dothraki will never cross the sea. Especially not for a man like Viserys. We’ve talked about this.”

Robert was far too stubborn. Bitterness still lingered in his heart over what has been done and finished for so long. 

  
“Even if Daenerys Targaryen marries this man they are just giving Viserys a false promise. They will have no respect for him, will not follow him over the sea," he told Robert, something he's already said more than once to his friend.

"I shall fear the Dothraki coming to Westeros when they teach their horses to run on water,” Ned said to all that sat the table, not just Robert. He was making his opinion quite clear.

  
“And what if that savage gets a babe on the whore, what if they think to put her whelp on the throne instead of Viserys?!” Robert asked him, eyes looking to his small council for anyone to disagree that it was a possibility.

  
Ned couldn’t help but scoff. “The Dothraki are not driven by ambition. It wouldn’t even cross their minds.”

  
“Not until the idea is whispered into their ears, a picture planted in their minds of what could be,” Baelish voice reminded Ned of the sound of a snake slithering through the grass.

  
“And who would whisper such things to them, hmm?” he asked the Master of Coin, curious to where Baelish was leading this to. What he was implying. “I doubt they would hold much regard for anything Viserys said, even he was the brother to their---”

  
He failed to remember the word for the highest-ranking woman among the Dothraki.

  
“Khaleesi,” Varys offered.

  
Ned swallowed and gave a small, grateful jerk of his chin toward Varys.

  
“Perhaps they would not listen to Prince Viserys but they might listen to Princess Daenerys,” said Varys, his face calm, eyes filled with flickers of knowledge. "A Khaleesi is as good as a queen."

“The Dothraki have a bias against women, that is true, but that does not mean that they are without influence entirely. They can be made to listen to a woman. A woman name Doshi convinced her son to compel all the rest of the Dothraki to follow him during the Century of Blood. He listened to her. We can not underestimate Princess Daenerys and the influence she could build among them,”

The eunuch was originally not of Westeros Ned remembered, so might explain his more advanced knowledge on Dothraki history.

  
Ned took a moment to think of the possibility. Women had waged wars before. He thought about the Dance of Dragons, of Aegon’s sisters that conquered Westeros with him. What if Daenerys was like her ancestors, fueled by the same fire and blood? What if she could convince her husband to bring his army across the sea for her brother?

  
The King glowered at Ned “My kingdom is falling into unrest and something must be done to restore the peace.”

  
“I need to settle this with the Lannisters before a full out war breaks out between your house and House Lannister,” he told Ned, looking weary and old suddenly.

  
Robert had told Ned that he was half a kingdom in debt to the old lion. He couldn’t afford to lose Tywins gold now. "I can't just do nothing, Ned.”

  
“So you would have me sell my flesh and blood, my daughter to a savage for your peace?” Ned asked him with scorn and hurt that his friend would do this to him.

  
“What is one girl for hundreds if not thousands of lives, even our daughters?” Renly asked the council, avoiding looking directly at Ned to avoid the rage that he would be met with.

  
“Are you saying my sister's life wasn’t worth that when Robert lead his army to face Rhaegar Targaryen at the Trident when kidnapped and raped Lyanna? ” Ned swallowed thickly, his voice a vicious growl as he looked at Renly who sputtered fo a response. Ned very rarely spoke of what happened to his family and the crimes against them that sparked Robert’s Rebellion. 

It was too painful, but he would bear that pain if speaking of Lyanna might save Sansa.

Sansa was worth it. He would do and say what he must to protect her. To change Roberts mind on this.

  
“I assure you my father thought very differently about the worth of one girl's life, as did your king once,” Ned replied, pointing at said man.

  
Robert stood, face red with his Baratheon fury as he growled dark and low. “This is not the same thing.”

  
“How so?” Ned asked his old friend, his own voice dipping low with resentment.

“Am I not my father's son, is Sansa not my daughter? Why should I not plead for her and fight for her as my own father did for my sister?” he asked, knowing he would not get an answer.

  
The King and the Warden of the North stared each other down long and hard, both refusing to be the first to look away. Ned knew he was treading the line of wisdom and insubordination but if he didn’t try to reason with Robert with everything he had, he would hate himself. 

Robert couldn’t explain why it was that Sansa had been the first to come to mind. Perhaps her proximity, the ease of access and knowing he could send her off at a moments notice from Kings Landing if things changed as they had. He wasn’t particularly proud of himself.

“And if he hurts her, does unto Sansa what Rhaegar did to Lyanna?” Ned swallowed, his gut knotting at the horror of that thought. “All for something that may never come to be, I am just to accept my daughters suffering.”

“You are completely blowing this out of proportion, Ned,” Robert growled between clenched teeth. 

“You’re being dramatic and your daughter's situation is completely different.” He watched as a dark cloud rolled over the king but he did not heed to be wary of it. He had to keep trying.

  
“What you are asking of me is wrong!” he said back. “Sansa is not perfect, but she’s an innocent girl that doesn’t deserve to be pulled into these schemes. Not like Lyanna was.”

  
“DO NOT SPEAK HER NAME AGAIN TO ME, EDDARD STARK!!!” Robert thundered, his chair squeaking as he stood so quick it teetered on its legs, his hands coming down like the hammer he wielded in battle, rattling the table and those sat around it.

Ned chose to try a different tactic.

  
“She’s my girl, Robert, my first girl” Ned said weakly. He must seem pathetic in front of these other men but he had cared very little for their opinion to start with, so it did not matter much. “Don’t you remember the day your daughter was born, the fear you had, the adoration, the thought that you would do anything for her, to keep her safe?”

  
Robert didn’t. He was out hunting, killing and drinking. It was a week after Myrcella was born that he first seen her, held his blonde-haired daughter with all her mother’s beauty and none of her poison. He was a shit father, but he did care for his children in his own way. The choice was not an easy one to make, not when it came at such a personal cost to his friend.

  
The king's shoulders went lax, the storm clouds in his eyes clearing, his cheeks paling again. This was not something that greatly pained him to do, but he neither enjoyed the hurt it brought to his friend.

  
“And a sweet, beautiful, girl she is.” Robert agreed with deep remorse. “She’ll do her duty to her king and country. Varys already informed me that Jorah Mormont has been singing your daughters praises to the Khal and he is very interested in meeting her.”

  
Ned turned ghostly white at the implications of what Robert has just said. “Singing her praises?”

  
Robert seemed to realize his slip but he would not look abashed. A cold rage filled Ned.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve thought of this idea. How long have you been considering this as an option, planning behind my back to send my daughter away from me?” his voice was as chilling and biting at the Northern winds.

  
Robert almost looked pained for a moment before swallowing his guilt and lifting up his chin.“When you asked me not to send an assassin for Viserys and his sister when I learned the boys plan.”

Ned searched his memory for that day and he gave a vicious snarl at his realization. “We were still on the King's road then, Robert. It’s been months since then!”

  
“I wasn’t sure what I would do to stop it,” Robert admitted, looking down at his wine.

Something wasn't right, Ned knew it. This was too much. He looked at his friend with a harsh stare.

  
“Something had to have changed and don’t you blame this on the situation with Cat and Tyrion. It’s more than that, Robert, I know it is,” he demanded an answer. “Tell me the truth, all of it. I deserve that.”

  
Robert licked his lips and ran a hand down his face before leaning back, tired like, in his chair. He thought and then he nodded, agreeing to be honest, but instead of himself telling the story the King pointedly looked to Varys to speak for him.

  
“We’ve tracked the prince and princess quite accurately over the span of their exile. They were in Braavos for at least five years when they first escaped, then when their caretaker died they went to Qohor, Volantis, Lys and now they are in Tyrosh.” Varys started and Ned wasn't sure how this was meant to explain the current predicament.

“So far Viserys has gotten them by with mostly by selling what valuables they had maaged to take with them, then when that was all gone he took begging. They get Housed for short times by powerful citizens in the different cities they've traveled to,” he spoke as if was reading a bedtime story to a child. It was droning.

  
“Princes, merchants and magisters.” he gave a few examples and Robert gave a groan, waving him to get on with the notable points.

  
“At first we feared that Viserys would wed and bed his sister if he hadn’t already done the latter, but we’ve received no word of such intimacy ever taking place between them.” Varys continued. "We feared House Targaryen being reborn, then that he had arranged a marriage for himself or her to someone powerful enough to help them. Yet until now that hasn't been the case."

  
“When we learned that Viserys had offered his sister to be the bride of one of the most powerful Dothraki Khal’s this council was surprised,” he said and the group gave little noises of confirmation. “His offering of his own sister is the closest he’s come to gaining any sort of army.”

  
“Yes, and your original solution was murdering them.” Ned reminded him and Varys did not deny that he had approved of the idea.

  
“They are nobodies, a beggar king, and a runt sister. Their deaths would not even be noticed by anyone, just another couple of street rats dead.” Renly said with a roll of his eyes.

  
Ned spared Renly the briefest look of disapproval before turning back to Varys.

  
“Go on, Lord Varys,” Ned said.

  
“As I was saying, Viserys is the closest he’s ever come to getting an army,” he spoke directly to Ned. "Everyone else has turned him away when it's come to asking for soldiers to fight for him."

  
“It is not just the Dothraki crossing the Narrow sea that should concern us, it’s those that would follow their example and take up Visery’s cause.” Robert’s gruff voice added. “If they think that a beggar boy like Viserys can gain an army of Dothraki, men won’t think it’s just because he gave them a cunt to fuck.”

  
Ned made a face at Roberts vulgar language.

  
Varys spoke again, turning one of his fingers around his finger.“All it takes is a good story to believe in, my lord. If people start to take the Dothraki’s new alliance to Viserys out of context, allow themselves to imagine a great cause and a great man to fight for, then men will flock to him.”

  
Varys had a good point. Ned hadn’t thought about that. He remembered the men who came to Robert, raising their banners to fight for him and one, noble purpose. Tear down the mad king and his family for their crimes.

  
“Viserys has been traveling to find someone to translate for him, to properly offer his sister to Khal Drogo. If he finds someone willing to bring him to the Khal and he accepts Visery’s proposal, my little birds tell me Volantis would take up his cause as well.” at last, Varys got to the true reason for all of this madness.

  
Ned was now understanding his friend's urgency and panic.

  
Volantis was the oldest of the Free Cities, the first daughter of the Valryian Freehold. Even now it was one of the most powerful cities in Essos. It had taken the combined forces of the free cities to bring Volantes to heel during the Century of Blood. Years before Aery’s and Rhaegar were killed, Volantis had the support of the Targaryen’s in a trade war with Myr and Tyrosh. If they truly came to believe that Viserys was someone worth backing and remembered how the Targaryens once supported them and chose to return the favor, then who else would start to rise to the occasion?

  
“Some have sent word to Khal Drogo in regards to Daenery’s, passing rumor to him rather than a direct message of proposal. So far he has not been interested enough to seek Viserys and his sister out himself. This does not mean he won’t eventually” Varys continued to inform him.

“That is why it’s been important for us to have someone on the inside, close to Khal Drogo. Jorah Mormont is that man.” Varys added.

  
Ned did not take much heart from that and he showed it on his face. Jorah Mormont was a self-exiled criminal, who ran from justice when he was caught selling poachers into slavery.

  
“It wasn’t planned that it would be your daughter, not at first. We had Jorah speak of any Westeros beauty he could think of, to feel out the Khals interest. It was only when I learned Khal Drogo knew about Daenerys that I tried to think of one woman specifically to have Jorah focus on.”

  
“My daughter." Ned spoke with disgust. "Your own sons bride."

“Sansa Stark has been taught well to be obedient. She’s charming and I think she has an incredible ability to adapt. Sansa’s a stronger girl than she looks.” Roberys praise for Sansa was not valid enough reason, he could see that but Robert wasn’t sure what else to say to provide an explanation on why he chose Sansa of all girls.

  
“I know your daughter is infatuated with my boy, for gods whatever reason, I can’t understand it,” said Robert to him with a sneer. “But Joff is a picky twat, never happy and sadly doesn’t much care for your girl despite the airs he puts on for her. Gets it all from his mother.”

  
“Joff won’t fight for her, won’t even complain.” he kept on telling him. But and knew that already.

  
Ned hated himself a little for his next words. “Then spare my daughter the pain of an unhappy marriage and end her betrothal to your son, but send some other girl. Why does it have to be a high born, why does it have to be her?”

  
“It may seem hard to believe, but the Dothraki do have a sense of quality. Sansa is among the highest of well-bred women in Westeros” when Baelish spoke all Ned wanted to do was reach over and choke the life out of the worm. But he refrained.

  
Varys nodded in agreement to the statement.

  
“Well-bred?” Ned spat, taking a step towards Baelish. “Do you consider my daughter a dog, or some show horse, Lord Baelish?”

  
The man only smiled apologetically at Ned. “Of course not, Lord Stark. Please accept my sincerest regrets for my poor choice of words to describe your exemplary daughter.”

  
Varys cleared his throat to bring the attention back to him.

  
“The Dothraki are prideful people and if we are to present them with a gift it must be a fine gift indeed. Even if we sent them a random virgin and dressed her up extravagantly, Khal Drogo would still know the girl was a shiny pebble rather than a brilliant jewel. Then we would have given him more reason to run off to Daenerys.” said Varys.

  
Ned wanted to argue with Varys about that but Robert spoke again before he could begin.

  
“I wasn’t sure this was the action I was going to take, but now with this thing with the Lannisters having started it just seems right.” at his friend's words Ned wanted to laugh.

Nothing about this was right.

  
“You still want me to spare them a quick death by a sharp knife?” Robert asked with a dry laugh, recounting Ned’s opinion on one of the last conversation they had about Daenerys and Viserys.

  
If Robert sent a hired killer after them, took them out of the picture completely, there wouldn’t be a need to send Sansa away. But what honor was there in killing them that way. Their lives were stolen from them all because of a mad father and a brother obsessed with a woman that he had no right too. They had been children, one just a newborn. What Tywin had done by ordering the murder of Elia and her children was despicable and a taint on what Robert and the rebellion had been fighting for. There was no honor in the murder of babes and women.

  
But Viserys wasn’t a boy anymore but a man grown. If it was just him who died, wasn’t that enough. Daenerys could go off and marry some merchant or Essosi prince. She wouldn’t be a threat to anyone. She could find happiness, be at peace and never pay a thought about Westeros or the throne.

  
He opened his mouth to answer.

  
“The Lannisters still want to even the score, Ned.” the reminder had his lips pressing into a thin line. No matter how Ned would have chosen to answer his friend's question, he realized that things were already decided.

“Sansa will go and marry this Khal Drogo, Tywin will be appeased and you get to go on with the victory of having convinced me to show mercy. Again.” the king smiled.

  
This wasn’t a victory and he doubted it would ever feel like one, not when he had to give up Sansa. His Sansa.

  
“But be warned, if I hear of Visery’s coming close to getting an army again, nothing will stop me from finally putting a true end to that wretched Targaryen line for good.” not for a second did Ned doubt his friends promise.

  
He wasn’t ready to give up the fight yet, he was sure there was something more he could say.

  
“My daughter--”

  
“Her fate has been decided. I’m sorry, Ned. It is what I command.” Robert did not break his stare from Ned’s, but he did lower himself back into his chair. “Sansa’s Starks betrothal to my son, Joffrey Baratheon, is ended and she will wed Khal Drogo of the Dothraki.”

  
The council members nod and Robert shoos them away like flies, giving orders to begin what preparations were needed immediately.

  
It was just Ned and Robert now. Robert was king and to deny him, to rebel against his command would be war and death. It was the whole reason he had come to this hellish vipers nest, why he had agreed for Sansa to marry Joffrey when she turned eighteen.

  
“Cat will never forgive me,” Ned tells him as he sinks into a chair at the council table. “How am I going to tell her, either of them?”

  
Robert couldn’t answer him, but even he knew how much Sansa wanted to marry his shit stain of a son. Robert had hoped with Ned around that he would be the same example of a man Jon Arryn had been to them and Joffrey would finally grow out of being a cunt. But his fucking mother just dug her lion claws deeper into their son, warping the boy into an even more entitled, selfish shit that didn’t think there were any consequences to his actions.

He wasn’t sure if a Dothraki Horse Lord was better or worse for the girl.

  
Robert stood and came to Ned’s side of the table. His friend sat with his head in his hands and he thought of some way to comfort him, to ease his guilty mind.

  
“I am truly sorry to put you in this position,” said the king “I don’t know what else to do, Ned. I am already in debt to Tywin and I need the Lannisters gold to keep the kingdom running until we can think of a better way to fund the crown and I won’t have to rely on them so much.”

  
Ned couldn’t think about any of that right now, all he could think about was Sansa. His sweet girl who had been a lady by three, dutiful and determined to be perfect. She was so different from the rest of them, more southern than he or her siblings. She was a bright light among the dark heads, a sweet sister to her brothers and a doting daughter. Sansa worked so hard since she was little to one day be a good wife and lady of a castle, to marry a handsome knight or lord. Now she was being sold by the crown to marry a savage.

His Sansa. Delicate and sweet. Who loved fine silk and songs.

  
What if they hurt her? What if she was absolutely miserable for the rest of her days? She deserved respect and to be treated well, to be content if not happy. Even if he could not marry her to a man she loved, he could take faith that he would find her a suitable match with someone he knew would care for, who in time she might grow to love in the years following her marriage. He couldn’t imagine Sansa finding that with a Khal of the Dothraki.

  
Robert took the seat next to him, resting an arm on the table as he faced himself towards Ned.

“This is not a punishment for anything thing Sansa did and I won’t have her blame you or Cat for this either. I’ll explain the situation and hopefully, as King, I can give her some confidence in herself and the situation. I’ll make sure she knows you fought me, that you didn’t want this for her.” Robert promised him.

  
Ned just nodded. He couldn’t even think to imagine telling Robert to not bother. Maybe he wanted to be a little selfish. Let Sansa me angry with someone else for a change, disappointed by a man that was not her father for once.

  
Ned leaned back in his chair and for the first time since Lyanna died, did Robert see his best friend cry. But Ned didn’t look at him, just stared off across the table. He couldn’t meet his eyes, too what he would do if he did.

  
“I remember the day she was born.” Ned smiled, recalling the day with perfect clarity.

  
Cat’s water had broken in the middle of the night while they had been in bed. When the feeling of wetness in their bed had woken him from his sleep he was slightly confused as to why. Then a memory of Lyanna came to him, all the blood that stained her bed. He shook Cat awake and threw back their linen and fur blankets. He half expected to see blood but there was none.

  
“Ned?” Cat had said weakly, her voice still laced with sleep as she looked over his shoulder at him.

  
She didn’t have the sharp reflexes and focus a soldier did, mind needed to be alert at all times. You never knew when an enemy might ambush you in the night while you slept. You had to be ready.

  
“The babe,” he managed to say around a nervous swallow, his eyes still on the wet stain on their bed.

  
Cat had blinked for a moment, her brows knitting together with worry and he could see her start to come too more. “Is it Robb?”

  
He shook her head and put a hand to her belly. “The bed is wet, I think it’s time.”

  
Cat had turned onto her back and scootched herself up to their pillows. She looked between her thighs, her brow raisings with the realization before her beautiful face split into a grin, her eyes shimmering with tears yet to fall.

  
“It is,” she confirmed, a light in her eyes that he only saw when she held Robb.

  
“You must fetch maester Luwin.” He had nearly tripped getting out of their bed.

  
Her maids helped Cat from his chambers to her own, her bed made ready for the birth. He waited outside while he tried to comfort Robb and Jon who had come at the sound of Cat’s screaming.

Robb had tried to burst into his mother's room, thinking someone was hurting her. The boy was but three, beating against his fathers back as Ned held him, crying as loud as Cat into his ear. Jon, who Cat was only ever cold too, sat against the wall. He was more quiet, whimpering like a hurt pup as he looked up at his father and brother with tear-filled eyes. He still yearned for Catelyn’s love and affection, he still saw in her a possible mother and worried for her.

  
When the maester finally opened the door to him, he held a small bundle in his arms.

  
“You have a daughter.” he smiled at Ned who staired from maester Luwin’s face to that of the tiny little girl in his arms. She was so small. He hadn't remembered Robb or Jon ever being this small.

  
“Come, my lord. Your daughter will not shatter if you hold her.” maester Luwin had encouraged him.

  
Ned put Robb down and Luwin placed the child into his arms. She was pink, rosy. She gave the smallest, softest little whimpers, having settled now that she was cleaned.

  
“A girl,” he said weakly, not disappointed, not sad, but scared. A girl. Girls were married off, they were taken from their homes, they were belittled and dismissed. 

  
He wanted to name her Lyanna. But it was too painful, too tragic. He thinks he might call her Lyarra, after his mother, but the thought of another Lyarra walking the halls did not feel right. So he chooses a name far back on the Stark family tree rather than a more recent one that was not so close to his heart but could easily become so. She would not be burdened with carrying the legacy and memory of someone he had lost.

  
Ned named her Sansa.

  
Sansa had been born at dawn and he ordered the bells be rung from sunrise to sunset that day.

  
“She was our first after the war was over, the firstborn in Winterfell, the first babe me and Cat conceived out of love and not duty,” Ned told Robert, recalling all of it with a smile.

  
“I think it’s why I spoiled her more than I should have,” he admitted with a smirk. “She’s lovely on her best days and an absolute brat on her worst.”

  
That made him chuckle. “I told her Septa once that war was easier than raising daughters.”

  
The king nodded, his mouth twitching up just slightly. He knew how much he was asking of Ned so he just let him talk. He may be his king but Robert was also his dearest friend. The least he could do is listen to his old friend's emotional prattling. He cared for his children, wanted them safe but Robert didn’t have the same attachments to his own brood that his friend did. He looked at them, all three and only saw his wife and her kin. He wouldn’t fight for Myrcella the way Ned was fighting for Sansa. 

  
Robert was never under the delusion he was a good father. He knew he wasn’t. He had hoped Ned might do that for him too when he came here. Take his children, make them into respectable people he could leave this kingdom to.

  
“She’s so mindful of her place. Dutiful like her mother and such a determined girl to be the best she can be as a Lady,” Ned goes on. “She’s dreamed of prince’s and knights all her life, of turneys and romance.”

  
“You sheltered her.” Robert nodded. Though it wasn’t exactly like he was trying his damnedest to put some good sense into any of his children either.

  
“Aye,” Ned agreed. “Now I must shatter the illusion of the good and pure world I’ve let her believe we live in. One where she can be a pretty maid in a song that gets to marry a handsome prince”

  
It was not going to be an easy task.

  
“Just tell her what a shit my son is.” Robert barked a laugh.

Ned didn't tell him that her sister already did that plenty.

  
“She was barely ready for a betrothal to your son, taken in by the glamorous image in her head of what life in the capital and as a queen was like. Now she’s going to be expected to marry a man of the Dothraki who must be twice her age. She won’t live a life in a comfortable castle but in camps and on horseback.” Ned leaned back in his chair, running a hand down his face. "this might break her."

  
“It’s the best thing for the realm, my friend. Your daughter will learn to adapt to her new life.” Robert tried to remind him, to reassure him he truly wasn’t doing this on a whim to spite Ned and his family. But no matter how many times Robert might tell him it was for the good of the realm, it would never feel right to Ned.

  
“When must she leave?” Ned asked, dreading the answer but knowing the question needed to be asked for Sansa surely would wonder about it.

  
Robert looked at him with apologetic eyes. “This is time-sensitive, we can’t let that Targaryen whore and her sniveling brother get to the Dothraki first.”

  
That wasn’t an answer and Ned began to look at his friend with impatience.

  
“A fortnight. It is the longest I can give you to prepare your daughter and I can afford to pay the ships from Lys to refuse Visery's passage,” he said and Ned gave a groan. What wouldn't his friend do to stand in the way of the Targaryen's? Paying off ships, it was reckless and a waste of money if they didn't follow through with their end of the deal.

But a fortnight to prepare Sansa? That was far too soon.

  
“Allow me to go with her at least?” he looked at Robert, calmly pleading. “Let me see this man she is to call her husband and be there to support her and comfort her at her wedding. Catelyn would never look upon my face again if I didn’t do that much for our daughter.”

  
The falling out between him and his wife had would be far worse than when he had brought Jon back from the war with him. He had dishonored her, humiliated her. But this. This was Sansa.

This was their firstborn daughter, the only of their children to take after her, with her southern charms and aspirations. Sansa was held near and dear to Cat’s heart. She had tried to convince him not to agree to the betrothal with the crown prince, even after Sansa had begged her to plead of him the opposite. Her girl was not ready and she did not like the prince. She didn’t want her taken from her, to leave her yet.

  
He wondered, how long it would take for Catelyn to forgive him for this.

  
Robert gave a great sigh and stood again, patting his friend's shoulder.

“Aye, you can go with her. But once she’s wed I need you back here to rule for me. Write to your wife before the day is done, have her release Tyrion and I’ll have the rest of my council help me with the rest. ” Robert told him, relenting on this at least.

  
“Thank you, Robert” Ned said, staying seated. He felt too exhausted to stand, even for the king.

  
“It the least I can do considering the situation I’ve put you in.” offered Robert. “Have Sansa come to me in the morning and I will speak to her then.”

  
He left then to allow Ned to think on his own.

  
When Robert was gone, Ned hunched completely over, planting his face in his cupped hands. how he was going to tell Sansa she was no longer betrothed to Joffrey and was to leave in a fortnight’s time to marry a Dothraki man? How was he going to put any of this in a letter to his wife?

  
They should never have come to this place. They should never have left Winterfell.

***

  
When Ned returned to the Tower of the Hand the sun had already begun to set on the capitol and his daughters were sat down at supper. Septa Mordan was standing off to the side, keeping a stern watch over the girls. She smiled and bowed at his entrance.

  
“Pardon’s, my lord, for not waiting. But it was getting quite late---”

  
“That’s alright, Septa,” he said while she flittered about, getting him a plate and having some of the servants come back in to make it up.

  
“How was your day, father?” Sansa asked, knowing it was polite to ask.

  
Sansa had always been one to hold up decorum, even when she was angry, she would sit with them at the evening meal and ask after their days as a good daughter should. But today she wasn’t angry, today she seemed incredibly happy even and he wondered why that was.

  
“It was eventful,” he said, choosing for the moment to forgo the details.

  
Sansa did not press and ducked her head back towards her meal. That was when he noticed the necklace. It was near identical to what the Queen wore.

  
“Sansa, where did you get that pendant?” he asked, pointing to her throat.

  
“Oh, this?” she touched the gold and a broad grinned lit up her face. “Prince Joffrey gifted it to me. It looks just like the one the queen and princess Myrcella wear, does it not?”

  
He nodded. It did, but the lion head was facing the opposite direction and the border of the oval was smooth gold, rather than with decorative engraving then like the one that the princess and queen wore. Even as a soldier, it was important to notice details. This was just one that he had happened to notice, oddly enough. A replica, but not a perfect one.

  
“How kind of the prince,” he said, knowing the boy was anything but kind.

  
Ned wasn’t truly disappointed that Sansa would not be marrying Roberts obnoxious son. He just wished he could have been able to have the pleasure of finding her a better match, someone he knew would be good for her.

  
“He is truly the finest and most handsome of men.” his daughter sang the prince’s praise with a blush on her high cheeks.

  
He frowned. She still had not seen through the boy. His true character, even more so now that they were in Kinglanding, seemed obvious. He was a malicious young man and he feared what the kingdom would become when he took the throne. He prayed his friend lived another twenty years if the gods were truly good. That boy would make as good as a king as Aerys The Mad if something wasn’t done about him soon.

  
But right now that wasn’t the problem at hand he needed to deal with.

  
“My dear, I was hoping when you finish your meal you would stay and sit with me. There is something I wish to discuss with you.” his mouth felt dry as a desert, but he managed to get the words out and he watched Sansa for their reaction. It had been a while since only the two of them sat down for a talk. He recalled the most recent being when they had just arrived in the capital, her heart still terribly hurt from the loss of her direwolf. He presented her with a doll from the very dollmaker who made all of Princess Mycella’s toys. Sansa had not been impressed at all with his gift.

  
Sansa was a woman flowered, betrothed. Not a child who still played with dolls. Yet, Sansa had taken the gift with her to her room all the same.

  
“Of course, father,” Sansa agreed with a polite smile, just the barest hint of annoyance in the line between her brow. He was sure Sansa would prefer to spend her time daydreaming about Joffrey or working on her embroidery or play her harp before she retired for bed.

  
With a tired smile, he invested himself in his meal, occasionally looking to his daughters as Arya and Sansa recounted how they spent their day. Arya told him that Syrio was having her chase cats and pigeons in alleys, speaking excitedly about her strange assignment. Ned tried to think of how that helped his daughter learn the sword. A practice of stealth and agility perhaps?

  
When Arya was done, Sansa told him how Joffrey had called her to a midday meal and had her favorite lemon cakes made for her. That he had called her his ‘lady’ and his ‘queen’ before he gave her the pendant she wore now. He soured at the blush on her cheeks and the way she ducked her chin down with embarrassment. The boy had given his daughter more than just the necklace. Of course, Sansa was a maid and a proper lady, she would never do anything to dishonor herself. Perhaps they shared a chaste kiss, but that was all. He was confident that had been the case.

  
Sansa would go to her new husband pure.

  
Ned pushed his plate away from him, his appetite was suddenly gone as he remembered the conversation he still had to have with Sansa. He took the wine he rarely touched and poured his goblet full. His daughters looked at him as if he had grown a second head as he chugged the dry, sweet wine until there was nothing but a few drops at the bottom of the goblet.

  
“Father, are you alright?” Sansa asked him, the line between her brown now there out of concern. Like her mother would, she reached a hand across the table and placed it atop his own.

  
“Are you dying!?” Arya gaped at him.

  
“What?” why of all things would she think that was the problem.

  
“No,” he said and watched as his fourteen-year-old daughter gave a gusting sigh of relief. He would have to unravel that later.

  
“Septa, please take Arya to her room for the night,” Ned spoke to the woman, dismissing Arya who pouted and whined that she wanted to stay. Ned was sure by the time he ended his talk with Sansa his youngest daughter would soon know what it was about. Sansa was going to be hysterical and even though the two were not close, he was sure Sansa would run to her sister's room to cry and complain about the situation.

  
“What is this about, Father? You seem rather disturbed by your day.” Sansa asked her selfishness melting away as she genuinely seemed to be worried about his wellbeing.

Touched, he turned his hand over and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.

  
“I am, my darling,” he admitted, smiling sadly up at her. “I came to bid orders of the king upon our family. Commands I know you will not be pleased to hear.”

  
Sansa’s face pinched in thought for a moment before it smoothed with realization.

  
“I won’t be marrying Joffrey, will I?” she asked, her voice surprisingly calm.

  
He sighed. “No, you will not.”

  
Taking her hand back from his, his daughter's beautiful face contorted from worry to a look of accusation towards him. Of course, he should have suspected she would blame him.

  
“Did you fight with the King again, did you upset him and that is why I am being punished?” she asked him, her neck growing red as it sometimes did when she was angry. It had been like that since she was a girl. Her eyes welled with tears and her brows were angled in a glare at him.

  
“This is not a punishment Sansa, the King has plans for you.” his temples pulsed and he ran his fingers over his brow.

  
“Plans?” Sansa asked with a deep frown.

  
“What plans are greater than choosing a suitable wife for his son?” she asked him, her tears growing in number until he knew they would soon spill over and make trails down her cheeks.

  
“And am I not suitable enough?” she stood and looked down at herself, finding no fault he was sure.

“Who could be better, more perfect?” there was a terrible hitch in her voice as her tears fell. But it was unbecoming of a lady to cry before others and she wiped them for her cheeks."I've tried so hard to be perfect."

“I lied for him about what happened with Arya and that butcher boy, I lost Lady for it. I have been obedient and demure. My courtesies are impeccable, everyone says so. I have been studying my histories and relearning the houses of Westeros so I may be best prepared for becoming Queen.”

  
“And you would have made a fine queen,” he said, doing his best to give her a praising smile.

Sansa would have made a charming queen indeed. She was demure, as she said, and she could be rather charitable. She liked to sing to the smallfolk children and tell them stories, once a month she would deliver bread with her mother to those more unfortunate among the residents of the North. She would sew little cloth dolls for the children of the kitchen maids. Though she could be sharp-tongued when she was annoyed about something, she would always apologize to the servants for her rudeness and try to find kind ways to compensate them. Money was not everything and sometimes it was the sentiment of a gift or action that proved the better option to prove sincerity.

  
On the matter of her education, Sansa was well versed in courtesies and he hardly believed she needed to relearn the Westeros houses. She had always fared very well in that part of her lessons, as did Bran. She was also raised very well by her mother and septa to be a loyal wife and more than a proficient lady of the house for her future husband and his home.

It might take her some time to adapt that on such a large scale as the Red Keep, but queens had their own courts and council for things such as that.

  
Above all, Sansa was a creature of duty. She prided herself in upholding the ideals set upon her and following the path she knew was meant for her.

  
Ned would not say she would be on par with Good Queen Alysanne, but Sansa did share some notable and praiseworthy qualities that could allow her to rule kindly beside Joffrey if she let go of her willfulness and put aside her childish fancies and dreams for the ideals of living an honorable life for a woman in such a powerful position rather than a spoiled one.

  
“Then why, father, why is the king doing this to me?” Sansa rushed around the table and fell to her knees, looking up at him with tearful eyes and a sob in her throat.

  
“The fault does not lie with you Sansa, any part of you,” he promised, leaning forward and placing a kiss to the part between her braids. “It is truly a loss to the kingdom and to prince Joffrey.”

  
She ducked her head and sobbed into his knee. “Then whose fault is it?”

  
Ned couldn’t tell her about what her mother had done, not that he really blamed Catelyn at all for the situation, this was all Roberts foolish sense of wisdome. But he could also not put blame on their king. To speak ill of his the King to his own family was treasonous so he didn’t answer her question, buying himself time.

  
“I am so sorry, my child,” he said, stroking her braids. “I know you are disappointed.”

  
After Sansa hid her tears in his knees for a few minutes, she wiped her face and looked up at him. “What is to become of me now, what are these plans the king has for me?”

  
This, Ned thought, this was truly the worst part of this conversation. He worried how to even explain the politics of the situation, explain what was happening with the Lannisters and the Targaryen’s. He didn’t know what Robert would tell her in the morning. If he didn’t tell Sansa the whole truth and Robert did it would only cause a deeper strain on his family. So he chose to take the route of candor as he always had in life.

  
He started from the beginning so she best understood. He told her about the attempt on Bran’s life, that her mother had come to tell him rather than a raven. That for reasons he would not explain, her mother suspected that Tyrion Lannister might have a hand in the attempt on Bran’s life. On her way back to Winterfell the two had crossed paths and she had taken him a prisoner to face trial for the accused crimes.

  
“I still don’t understand, father,” Sansa admitted, and of course she wouldn’t. Not yet.

  
“Tywin is not pleased that your mother would take his son without first bringing up the accusations to him. He seeks restitution.” he tried to explain.

  
“And that is the reason for my betrothal to Joffrey being broken, to be the recompense for what mother has done?” she asked him and he could see in her eyes that her anger and blame was shifting.

  
“No, not alone it is not.” he swallowed. "This is not your mother's fault."

  
“What do you mean?” she asked him and assumed the least worse option “Am I to marry another Lannister then, one of Joffrey’s cousins?”

  
“You are to marry, but to the advantage of the entire realm,” he said and his shoulders sagged with the misery of what he was about to tell her.

  
“You are to marry Khal Drogo of the Dothraki, across the narrow sea, so that the realm may avoid a war. The prince Viserys Targaryen who has lived a life of exile has plans to marry his sister to this man and if he does will have an army to invade Westeros with. The king has chosen you, to be an alternate for Princess Daenerys. If Khal Drogo marries you then prince Viserys can no longer bargain with the hand of his sister to gain a dangerous army to threaten Westeros with.”

  
Sansa recoiled from his lap, standing and clutching at her chest with revolution and mortification at what she was being told was to become of her life.

  
“No!” she gave a gasp, fresh new tears rolling down her cheeks. “The Dothraki are savages, you can not ask me to marry a man of that kind.”

  
“How could you allow this?” She demanded to know, raising her voice to him as she had never done before. “Have you no love for me you would gladly send me so far away, to give me to a man of such low and uncivilized birth?”

  
Ned stood and went to his daughter, taking her in his arms.

  
“You have all my love.” He swore to her, his face just as pained as hers. “Never doubt how precious you are to me, what I wouldn’t do for you,”

  
“Then isn’t there something you can do to dissuade the King? there must be something.” she pushed back from him.

  
Ned bowed his head, “I did argue against the choice. Spoke every bit of sense I could to try and dissuade the King. But in his wisdom, King Robert sees this as the best solution to the realms most outstanding issues. We must abide by his commands, my sweet. I am sorry.”

  
“Joffrey--” she swallowed and looked at him with eyes filled with sudden hope. “Joffrey will speak to him, he’ll fight for me just like King Robert fought for Aunt Lyanna. I know he will. He loves me.”

  
The faith in her words was forced and he realized for the first time that perhaps Sansa was aware Joffrey wasn’t who she wanted him to be. Deep down, no matter how much she gushed over him, did everything she could to please him, Joffrey didn’t love her. At that moment, she was finally accepting that truth and her heart was breaking for her wasted time, for her dreams and the could be’s of her future.

  
“The King wishes to speak to you personally about the matter in the morning, if you do not wish to go I will think of a reason to excuse your absence,” Ned told her, feeling incredibly exhausted from the day suddenly.

  
Sansa wipes her cheeks. “No, I will go when summoned.”

  
He wishes there was something more he could say to her.

  
“I apologies for such indecent show of emotions, father,” Sansa said, stepping back from him, her head bowed. “May I be excused?”

  
Ned hesitated for a moment, thinking maybe there was something more he could do to comfort her but thought perhaps right now it was the best for her to be by herself.

  
“Yes, of course,” he said.

  
With a quick curtsey first, Sansa fled the room.

  
Once she was gone he went to the Office of The Hand and began to write a missive to his wife. He struggled with the right words late into the night. There was no good way to explain this to his wife, not without putting much of the blame for it on her actions. He would have to deal with the aftermath of her guilt and outrage over the Kings plan for Sansa later, this letter needed to be most importantly clear and direct on what Cat needed to do. Release Tyrion Lannister immediately.

  
When Ned retires for a bed that night, he does not find sleep at all. Instead, he lies awake wondering if he would ever be welcomed into his wife's bed again or see his eldest daughter smile at him once more.

**Author's Note:**

> So, don't know how many might consider this chapter to be too long but as the set up for the entire story, I thought it was important to get it right. So until I was satisfied I wasn't going to end the chapter and this is what we have.  
> Also, I saw a few different posts, photo edits about Ned naming Arya but I felt that as Sansa was the first girl, Ned would have been more likely to think about naming her after his sister or mother rather than Arya who came after.  
> Sorry if some of you really liked that idea with Arya's name, but for this story, it just works better.  
> More characters and pairing will be added with time.


End file.
